


What Friends Are For

by tess_genor



Category: Gotham (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: 3+1, Bad Parent Martin Whitly, Begging, Blood and Injury, Boot Worship, Brass knuckles, Case Fic, Child Death, Coming Out, Crying, Degradation, Drug Abuse, Drunkenness, Face Slapping, Fear, Gen, Hair-pulling, Homophobia, Hurt No Comfort, Italian Mafia, Malcolm Bright Whump, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Sexual Submission, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Fish Mooney, Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Real Life, Restraints, Young Malcolm Bright, grievous bodily harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 15:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/pseuds/tess_genor
Summary: Malcolm goes to Fish Mooney's club four different times throughout his life because only she can help him. AKA three times Malcolm Bright trusts Fish Mooney and the one time he shouldn't have. Tags will be updated with every new chapter. Chapter updates will be every other day. Any warnings will be placed in the notes at the beginning of each chapter.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Fish Mooney
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. Little Boy Blue

**Author's Note:**

> When Martin brings Malcolm to a strange club on a business meeting Malcolm gets frightened and turns to the club owner, Fish Mooney, to comfort him.  
> CW: Martin is neglectful in his care of Malcolm. Also mentions of blood and body mod in a theatrical manner.

Malcolm’s never been on this street before. He knows that he’s somewhere near all the sparkling lights of the theatres, but it’s strange here. The buildings are ragged and smoke billows out from grates in the pavement. It doesn’t look very nice. Not like where Malcolm lives. It’s very nice there.

”Daddy, where are we?” Malcolm looks up at his father. The autumn wind rustle’s Martin’s brown hair. Martin pulls his peacoat closer to himself.

”We’re by the theaters my boy. You should know that.” Martin smiles down at Malcolm. Martin’s eyes shine with love for his son. Malcolm can navigate the city fairly well for someone his age.

”No, daddy!” Malcolm’s giggle chops up his words. “I mean, what are we doing here?” Martin’s giggles join his son’s.

”You should’ve said that, silly goose. Always say what you mean. No one can twist your words if you’re direct.” Martin messes with Malcolm’s hair. He waits for his boy to try again.

”Daddy? I’ve never been down here before. Where are we going?” Malcolm straightens up. He always wants to please his father.

”Very good question, my boy. We are going to a venue called Mooney’s. It’s run by a friend of mine.” Martin never reveals more information than he wants. Only lets others know what he deems necessary for them to understand.

The two round the corner into a tight alley. The small puddles on the ground reflect the red lights of the neon sign. Malcolm can hear the steady thump of music through the walls of the building. All the windows are covered and there’s a large man blocking the door.

”Good evening, Dr. Whitly.” The man says while holding the door open. “Enjoy your night.” The door clangs shut behind them. The music is terrible, nothing like what mommy and daddy play at home.

”That doorman is very nice.” Malcolm squeezes Martin’s hand tighter. The air is heavy with smoke and Malcolm walks through clouds of perfume.

”He’s a bouncer not a doorman, son. It’s his job to know people just by looking at them and make sure they won’t cause any problems inside.” Martin removes his jacket and waits for Malcolm to do the same. He hands the two coats to a woman behind the counter and stuffs a piece of paper into his pocket.

”Why would people cause trouble? Fighting is bad.” Malcolm still doesn’t get why his father brought him here.

”Mooney’s brings in all kinds of people, my boy. Sometimes the owner needs a little help in enforcing rules.” Martin walks to the edge of the bar. He picks Malcolm up and sits him on one of the bar stools.

Martin wrings his hands. His eyes dart around the room searching for a familiar face. Martin’s mouth goes dry. He needs this to be quick and his contact is nowhere to be seen.

”Who are you looking for, daddy? Maybe I can help.” Malcolm swings his legs, letting his feet kick the pole holding up the stool every time.

”Ah, ah. Stop kicking, behave, Malcolm.” Martin squeezes Malcolm’s shoulder. “I’m looking for a tall man. He has a strong build and a large forehead.” Martin continues looking around the club. He’s antsy. He has a new experiment he’s been dying to test out.

”What about that man looking at you?” Malcolm points to behind the stairs. The shadows of the steps alter his face, but there’s no mistake that he’s closely watching the Whitly’s.

”Don’t point. You know better than that, my boy. What would your mother say, really?” Martin lowers Malcolm’s arm for him. “But, very good eye, dear boy. I’d wager that’s my friend you spotted. I’m going to go over and talk to him. Think you can sit here and be a good boy and wait for me?”

Malcolm nods. Martin trusts him enough to let him sit here alone. Malcolm beams. His father sees him as responsible. This is an adult place and Martin trusts Malcolm to act like an adult. He doesn’t want to let his dad down.

Martin walks away without looking back at Malcolm. Malcolm watches as his dad shakes the stranger’s hand. He squints, trying to keep his dad in his sight. Malcolm wants to be brave for his father, he really does, but he doesn’t like when he can’t see him. Soon Martin and the man go down a hallway, away from prying eyes.. Malcolm stays where his dad put him, he doesn’t want to make his father angry.

The lights in Mooney’s grow dim. Everyone at the bar turns to look at Malcolm. Malcolm’s eyes grow wide with fear. Maybe everyone realizes that he’s a kid and shouldn’t be here. He sits up taller, hoping that the change in height will fool the patrons. But, they’re not looking at Malcolm, they’re looking past him. Malcolm spins on the bar stool to see a small stage lit up with two spotlights.

A man and a woman walk out onto the stage. The man is in a suit. He has tattoos covering his hands and face. The woman holding his hand is in a bathing suit, Malcolm thinks. It’s very sparkly and Malcolm giggles at the way it catches the light. Her hair is bright red and sits on her head in pretty coils. Malcolm decides he likes the couple.

The show starts nicely. The red haired woman dances to a song that the man in the suit sings. At one point there’s a loud drum and the woman rips her skirt off. Malcolm shifts. He feels icky. He doesn’t think he should be watching this, but Martin asked him to stay on that seat. Daddy must have known what was going on and thought that Malcolm could handle it.

The song ends and everyone claps and cheers. Malcolm does too. The performance was good, even though Malcolm feels ashamed that he watched it. Any unease Malcolm feels dissipates once the man in the suit says that he will perform a few magic tricks. Malcolm loves magicians and he cheers, drawing a few looks and whispers from the crowd. The man in the suit mistakes the buzz in the crowd for him and states that a crowd has never responded so well. Someone yells at him to get on with it. The man in the suit raises his hand in a gesture that Malcolm’s only seen Adolpho do when a cab cuts him off.

The man in the suit pulls a rose out of thin air and hands it to the red haired woman. She pricks her thumb on a thorn and the man in the suit makes a big deal of licking the drop of blood off her finger. The audience laughs. Malcolm does not. The man in the suit does a few card tricks that Malcolm has seen before. The grown ups must have seen these tricks too because they don’t seem too impressed. The man in the suit laughs and tells them to calm down. He has a _real_ treat for them up next.

The man in the suit digs around in his pocket until he finds what he’s looking for. He holds his hand up and yells tada. Malcolm can’t see what the man in the suit is holding. The red haired woman walks off stage and comes back on moments later carrying a hammer.

”I will take this nail and drive it through my beautiful assistant's tongue!” The audience erupts. People start hollering. They cheer for the couple.

Malcolm starts to cry. Why would the man in the suit want to hurt the red haired woman? He called her beautiful. The people start to push closer to the stage. Malcolm hops off the stool and tears well up in his eyes. He doesn’t know his way around Mooney’s but he does know that he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t want to see the beautiful red haired woman get hurt. Malcolm doesn’t like that the audience members start yelling other places for the man in the suit to nail her.

Tears fall from Malcolm’s eyes. He wants his daddy. He wants to go home. Malcolm looks around frantically. Near the back of the hall is a large booth. It’s curved so Malcolm doesn’t have to watch the show and far away enough from the stage so that the voices will be muffled. Malcolm runs over to the booth, dodging people, and weaving between their legs. He crawls under the table and hoists himself up onto the soft velvet cushion. He pulls his legs into his chest and wraps his arms around himself. The red fabric turns dark where his tears land.

Malcolm closes his eyes. He covers his ears with his hands. He knows that Martin will be mad that Malcolm didn’t listen to him, but the show was scaring him. Maybe Martin will understand, but Malcolm doesn’t want to think about that right now. He just wants to shield himself from the “show” happening across the room.

The booth seat bounces Malcolm and he knows that someone is sliding into the booth. He’s going to be found. He hopes it’s his daddy. Malcolm looks up, waiting to see the familiar face of his father. Instead, his teary eyes stare up into the green eyes of a strange woman.

”And who might you be, baby?” The woman tilts her head. Her voice is soothing. Malcolm sits up.

”Daddy says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” Malcolm scoots away from the woman. Her perfume smells nice and her dress is pretty like the ones mommy wears. Malcolm doesn’t know her though and school always talks about stranger danger.

”Look over there on the wall.” The woman points across the room with two fingers. Her nails are sharp like talons. “What do you see?”

”It’s a fish skeleton.” Malcolm responds. “It’s gnathostome, because it has jaws.” Martin was teaching his son all about the tree of life. Malcolm especially took to evolution.

”Very good, it is a gnathostome.” The woman places her hands in her lap and turns in her seat to face Malcolm better. “That fish skeleton is there because this place is owned by Fish Mooney.”

”Oh, my daddy said that the owner is a friend of his. It’s named Mooney’s right? Is his first name Fish?” Malcolm scrunches his nose. Fish is a funny name.

”No, no. Fish is _her_ nickname. Mooney’s is owned by me.” Fish smiles at Malcolm. She seems so sweet. “Who’s your daddy? What’s his name? I’d love to know who’s calling me a friend. They’re so hard to come by in this city.”

”You’re Miss Mooney?” Malcolm gasps. Fish nods. “My daddy’s name is Martin Whitly.”

”Dr. Whitly considers me a friend?” Fish quirks an eyebrow. “I’m flattered.” Malcolm thinks that she doesn’t sound very flattered. “You must be his son Malcolm then.” Malcolm sticks out his hand and Fish laughs while shaking it. “Malcolm Whitly, what in the world are you doing crying in my booth?”

”Daddy brought me here because he had to meet a man. He told me to wait for him at the bar, that he would just be a moment,” Malcolm starts to cry again, his dad lied. Martin still hadn’t come back yet, “but he was taking so long. I watched the show like everyone else, but the man in the suit was being so mean to the red haired woman. I didn’t want to watch it anymore.” Fish opens her arms and lets Malcolm crawl into her lap.

”Malcolm, would you like to come into my office? It’ll be much quieter and you won’t have to watch the show. You’ll be safe there.” Fish’s makeup is gold. She looks like an angel. Maybe she is an angel. Fish is saving Malcolm from the scary show and people around him.

”May I, Miss Mooney?” Fish slides Malcolm off her lap and begins to move to the edge of the booth.

”I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. I never do anything I don’t want to do.” Fish holds out her hand, palm up. She will guide Malcolm to safety when Martin can’t. Malcolm takes Fish’s hand and she leads him up the stairs that the man was hiding behind.

”Do you know the man daddy was meeting?” Malcolm yells over the music.

”Dr. Whitly is meeting Butch. He works for me.” Fish nods to two men and they unlock a door. She steps through, pulling Malcolm with her. She locks the door behind them. Fish walks over to her desk and picks up the phone, she spins the dial a few times and only waits a couple of seconds before she starts talking.

”When Butch comes back in, please tell him that I have Malcolm Whitly with me in my office. Also remind me to talk to Carmine later. I don’t like women being traded like this. Thank you. That’s all Louis.” Fish turns her attention back to Malcolm.

”What are Butch and my dad doing?” Malcolm sits on the chair opposite Fish’s desk. He crosses his leg like a grown up and nearly falls out of the chair.

”They’re discussing some business.” Fish answers quickly. She uses the same tone mommy does when she gets tired of Malcolm’s questions. Malcolm looks down. “Malcolm, look at me. You are not in trouble. I just don’t think you need to know any more than that.”

“You sound like daddy. He only likes when I ask questions about the stuff he wants to teach me.” Malcolm pouts.

”You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you know he does that to protect you. That’s what family is for. I should know, I’m part of a large one.” Fish smirks. She drums her nails on the desk. Each point meets the table with a loud tap.

”Will the red haired woman be okay? Everyone wanted the man in the suit to hurt her.” Malcolm asks. His voice is quiet and he feels small sitting in the big chair. “I don’t like when people hurt each other. It’s mean.

”It’s just a trick, little one.” Fish sighs. “You’d be surprised how many people are capable of hurting others. Sometimes it’s the people you don’t expect who can commit the most monstrous acts. But, no. The red haired woman wasn’t going to be hurt.” Malcolm’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

”But the man in the suit had a nail!” Malcolm can only imagine how much pain the red haired woman is in.

”Does your mother wear earrings?” Malcolm thinks of all the beautiful jewelry his mommy wears. He nods.

”She has some that are very old.” Malcolm loves the old pairs more than any of the new shiny ones. They have history.

”Well the trick is like earrings. The red haired woman already has a spot on her tongue that’s pierced. The man in the suit places the nail over the hole and pretends to hammer it in. There’s no blood and no pain. It’s all an act.” Fish watches Malcolm process what she’s told him.

”You promise he didn’t hurt her?” Malcolm trusts Miss Mooney. She wouldn’t lie to him.

”I promise, Malcolm. You have my word.” Fish crosses her heart. Malcolm yawns. “It’s getting late, little one. Why don’t you move to the couch.” Malcolm looks over to the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

Malcolm wriggles from the chair and walks over to the sofa. He looks over to Miss Mooney before he climbs on to the plush surface. Malcolm takes off his shoes, it’s never polite to have shoes on the furniture, and pushes them under the sofa. He lays down and Miss Mooney covers him with a blanket. He falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

When Malcolm wakes up, he’s in his own bedroom. Martin is pulling up the quilt to tuck Malcolm in. Malcolm misses the soft blanket Miss Mooney let him borrow.

”Daddy, Miss Mooney was very nice.” Malcolm blinks slowly. He’s really tired.

”She took a liking to you, my boy. Told me all about how smart you are and what a young gentleman you were. I’m proud of you, Malcolm.” Martin kisses Malcolm on the forehead.

”She told me how a magic trick worked! She’s smart too and she’s the owner.” Malcolm rubs his legs together and settles in the pillow.

”Fish is a very powerful woman. You made a very good impression, my boy. You should always think about how relationships like that can benefit you.” Martin stands from the bed.

”Do you think Miss Mooney is my friend?” Malcolm’s eyes are heavy. He thinks he should stop talking and go back to sleep.

”I don’t think you want to be friends with Fish. She’s powerful, but not a good person. I don’t want you getting mixed up in the wrong crowd.” Martin leans against the door frame. His son is still too naive.

”Miss Mooney isn’t a good person?” Malcolm’s confused. Why would his father bring him somewhere owned by a bad person.

”It’s good to have connections. Fish can help you get things easily, but her methods are not always the best. I shouldn’t have brought you there. She told me how upset you were. I am sorry, my boy. I won’t take you back, that’s a promise. Now try to get some sleep. It’s late for you and you had a stressful day.” Martin closes the door. Malcolm listens to his father’s footsteps recede down the hallway.

Malcolm closes his eyes. He replays the night’s events in his mind. People aren’t always what they seem. His dad is a good man, but he lied to Malcolm. Martin left his son all alone in a scary place. Miss Mooney took care of Malcolm, but daddy said she isn’t a good person. Miss Mooney calmed Malcolm and helped him when he was alone.

”Grown ups are funny.” Malcolm says to himself. “I hope I never become one.”


	2. Boys Beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undergrad Malcolm visits Mooney's while under the influence. A secret comes out and Fish decides to help the boy out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: prescription drug abuse, homophobia  
> As always if you think something else should be tagged please don't hesitate to let me know.

Malcolm stumbles through the crowded club. Normally he avoids dives like this. If Malcolm wants to party he is going to go to a club where the owner knows him by name and reputation, and where money can get you a little extra something to have a good time. College has been treating Malcolm well so far.

The classes are easy, or maybe Malcolm is just smart. Dating has been easy, or maybe Malcolm just knows what to say to girls. Night life has been fantastic, or maybe Malcolm is just rich and a snob. Anything is possible.

Yet, here is Malcolm. On his summer vacation without a prestigious internship to brag about and drunk in a sketchy bar that he would normally try to avoid. The music is deafening and the bass thrums in his ears. A small part of him worries that it would mess with his heart, but mostly he doesn’t care. Malcolm is drinking because he is upset and not even the prospect of failing physical health can bother him.

While he has the perfect life, Malcolm hates every aspect of it. His family is dysfunctional at best. He hates being away at school. Not to mention that the realization that he is gay put a real downer on his love life. Jessica would never allow it and not because she was homophobic. No, she’d love Malcolm no matter what. The fucked up fact of the matter is that it is Milton family tradition for the first born son to get a shit ton of money for their wedding. Now that Malcolm thought about it, it was homophobic. His grandparents wouldn’t give him a dime if he was out. Jessica wouldn’t care that he’s gay, just that he is breaking tradition.

That’s a lie, she would care. She would advise Malcolm into marrying a woman for the money and coming to some sort of agreement that would allow him to have a boyfriend on the side. That’s not what Malcolm wants, so he stays quiet. What his mother and grandparents don’t know won’t hurt them.

So Malcolm pushes his way through the club that he would never be caught dead in just so he can relieve some stress and just be himself. He was already drunk and on some pills he had swiped from his mother when he got in, meaning that by now he was smashed. He laughs when someone looks at him funny and tries to kiss any guy who comes close enough for him to reach.

The lights dim announcing that a show is about to start and Malcolm heads for the stage. He is so used to being the center of Jessica’s unwanted attention and Malcolm craves to have the spotlight for himself, at least once in his life when he wants to be on display.

As he shoves his way through the crowd, Malcolm hears the other patrons jeer at him. It doesn’t bother him. He’s grown up getting shouted at by people and this was nothing different. Malcolm nears the front of the stage and sees a large man in a clean suit. His vision is a little blurry but Malcolm is positive it’s the same man he caught a glimpse of all those years ago. The man named Butch that his father had met with.

Butch leans against the stage with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes are trained on Malcolm and he bristles. Malcolm never liked being scolded and this feels like a lecture waiting to happen. He keeps walking forward though, all the substances in his blood tell him that he can take whatever Butch is going to give him.

”We’ve been getting a lot of complaints about you, sir.” Butch clamps a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. It’s a friendly but threatening gesture.

”Have you now?” Malcolm slurs. He just wants to enjoy the show. Maybe jump up on the stage himself. He hasn’t thought that far ahead.

”Any idea why?” Butch tilts his head. Malcolm allows Butch to lead him away from the crowd gathering at the foot of the stage. No need for random bystanders to get pulled into this.

”Butch right? Well, Butch, I haven’t the slightest clue why you would be getting any complaints about me.” Malcolm reaches into his jacket.

Malcolm figures that any amount of money could buy Butch to turn a blind eye. Butch on the other hand sees Malcolm’s action as a threat, unsure of what Malcolm will be holding when his hand reappears from the inside of his suit. Butch yanks Malcolm’s hand from his jacket and twists so that Malcolm’s arm is pinned behind his back. Malcolm struggles, trying to free his arm from Butch’s grasp, but Butch is way bigger than Malcolm, and also sober. All Malcolm manages to do is aggrivate Butch who just squeezes Malcolm’s wrist tighter.

”Butch,” a familiar voice comes from behind the two of them, “let the kid go. He’s not gonna cause anymore trouble. He’s smarter than that.”

Butch whips around so that him and Malcolm are face to face with Fish Mooney. Even in her heels Fish is shorter than Malcolm, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less intimidated by her. She stands there with her hands on her hips, like a disapproving mother. Malcolm would know what that looks like.

”Miss Mooney. How lovely to see you again.” Malcolm address Fish and winces when Butch presses his arm up more.

”Did I say you could speak?” Butch gives Malcolm a shake.

”Butch, please let this young man go.” Butch goes to argue and Fish wags her finger and clicks twice at him. “Malcolm Whitly will _not_ be causing any more problems tonight. Isn’t that right?” Fish looks at Malcolm waiting for an answer. When he doesn’t respond Butch squeezes harder.

”Ah! I promise no more problems. Though I might add, not sure I’m gonna go by Whitly anymore. Too many bad memories.” Malcolm doesn't know why he is telling Miss Mooney and Butch this. Maybe he should have stopped a few drinks ago…

”Whitly? Like Martin Whitly. The Surgeon?” Butch asks. He releases Malcolm and smooths out the collar of Malcolm’s jacket.

”Guilty.” Malcolm raises his hands. The joke falls short. Butch stiffens and Fish rolls her eyes. She gestures for Malcolm to follow her away from the crowd and up to her office.

Malcolm remembers what Miss Mooney’s office looks like. That night has always stuck with him, especially after it came out what his father was doing. Malcolm doesn’t wait for Fish to motion to a chair or invite him to make himself at home, he just goes and sits in one of the chairs by her desk.

Fish locks the door and sits on the edge of her desk. Her legs are crossed at the ankles and she leans back waiting for Malcolm to explain his actions. Fish stares Malcolm down. She doesn’t want him to think for a second that his wealth or name have any status here. This is her club and issues will be dealt with as she sees fit.

”Okay so out with it, boy. What’s with the act? You come into my club, of all places, and cause problems. Trouble in paradise?” Fish does her best to seem interested. Malcolm could be a good resource for her.

”I’m sad. So I’m taking my mother’s advice and I’m using _alternative methods_ to make myself feel better.” Malcolm crosses his arms and slumps back into the chair. He sighs and Fish scoffs at him. She’s not going to pry, he’ll share once he is ready. “I’m gay. I figured I could come here where I wouldn’t know anyone and no one would know me.”

”Is this a new self discovery?” Malcolm nods. “And I’m guessing you have little experience?” Another nod. “So you’re looking for a little anonymity and fun in the same night then? You definitely came to the right place, boy.”

”I shouldn’t have come here. Not in this state.” Malcolm struggles to get up from the chair but his legs give out and his head spins. “Maybe I’ll wait this out a little.”

”No, no, don't worry that pretty little head of yours. I’ll send one of my boys to you. Totally confidential. Assuming that’s what you want?” Fish sits up a little straighter. Most of her boys came to her in the same position as Malcolm. An outcasted boy, usually some form of a broken home, closeted with no one else to turn to. Fish saw herself as the patron saint of lost city boys. Some twisted Peter Pan.

”Your boys?” Malcolm gives Fish a questioning look. The phrase my boy never sat right with him.

”I’m like a mother to them. I hope they see me the same way.” Fish leans over and slowly picks up the phone receiver. She doesn’t turn the dial though, she is waiting for Malcolm’s okay.

”Are you going to ask me to call you mama?” Malcolm looks so small resting in the chair. He still looks like the scared little boy that Fish found all those years ago.

”If I did, I’d call you my boy too. Something tells me you wouldn’t particularly like that.” Fish smiles at Malcolm. He is much easier to read when he’s inebriated.

”No. I would not.” He frowns. Malcolm wants to be his own person, not anyone else’s _boy_.

”Then if you’re not my boy, I’m not your mama.” Fish pauses and places the phone back on the hook. She catches Malcolm’s chin with her pointer finger, the tip of her nail lightly digging into the soft skin of Malcolm’s throat. “Do you want me to set you up with one of my boys? This is a one time offer. If you say no, you walk out of this club right now and go home to your mother and _talk_ to her. If you say yes, I’ll take you to a private room but you have to swear to me that you’ll behave like the gentleman I know you were raised to be.”

”How much do your boys make in a night?” Malcolm digs in his pocket for his wallet. Being from a wealthy family does have its perks.

”A thousand on a good night. Why?” Fish’s hand slides closer to the phone once more. She likes where this is headed.

”I’ll triple it. I have the funds, it's no issue.” Malcolm begins to count out hundreds from the wallet and places them on the desk next to Fish’s hip.

”Malcolm, that’s a thousand a night, not per client.” She places her hand on his, trying to get him to stop counting. He lost his place a few times already and keeps having to start over. He waves her off and continues counting.

”It’s not hush money. I trust you, Miss Mooney. And I trust the people you employ to keep secrets. It is your jobs after all. I just, I just don’t want you or anyone to feel like I’m another Whitly taking advantage of people. You’re treating me well, even after the stunts I pulled downstairs. Let me show my gratitude.” Malcolm places his wallet back inside his pocket. He smiles when Fish rolls her eyes and pushes up off of her desk.

She shakes her head at him and reaches into her desk drawer for an envelope. She slides the money inside, seals it, and puts it into one of the locked mail boxes against the wall. Fish taps her fingers twice against the desk thoughtfully before she makes the call to downstairs.

Honestly, it’s against her better judgement. She hated working with Martin and she can already tell that knowing Malcolm is going to take from her more than she’ll receive. Still, it breaks her heart to see the boy in a position like this. Fish knows the story she made up about her mother spreads quickly and she is happy to see that Malcolm wants to treat her boys well.

Despite her every instinct telling her that Whitly’s are and always will be trouble, she trusts Malcolm. He just wants to be himself and Mooney’s has a reputation for keeping things hushed. Malcolm should know better than to trust Fish, but for now, she’ll give him reason to trust her. She hasn’t seen one con that would really outweigh the pros of any relationship the two of them could have. Trust is so rare in this city, Fish will take what she can get.

A knock on the door announces that Fish’s boy is here to take Malcolm to a back room. Fish laughs to herself. It seems as though Malcolm is taking whatever he can get too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update on tuesday! have a lovely day folks <3


	3. Mama's Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm needs Fish to tell him what really happened the night they first met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of a real life FBI case (Gilgo Beach Killer), one of the victims was a toddler. This is only mentioned briefly, no details are discussed.

Malcolm is finally happy. He has a killer job with the FBI. He’s been making headway in therapy. Not to mention that he loves life in D.C.. It’s become his new home, a version of safety that New York City no longer had.

Unfortunately, Malcolm is not in his lovely apartment in Washington, he’s sitting in the longue of some hotel listening to his mother drone on about planning Ainsely’s graduation party. Malcolm doesn’t know why his mother called him into the city. The FBI are involved with a serial killer case on Long Island and he wishes he was out there in Gilgo helping. Instead, he is feigning interest in the nuances of school colors and the importance of picking the right accent color.

”Malcolm, are you even listening to me right now?” Jessica sighs and places her champagne flute down. The bottom of the flute catches on Jessica’s plate, clinking loudly, and she sighs and puts her head in her hands.

”Yes, mother, I am. Columbia uses Philolexian blue.” Malcolm gives Jessica a tight smile and sets his glass down too. “You’re worried that it clashes with Aisnley’s cool undertones. Which, I’m not even sure what that means, but Ainsley is pretty. Does that stuff even matter?”

”Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Ainsley presses her cheek against Malcolm’s in a superficial greeting. He sticks his tongue out at her and she mirrors it right back. Malcolm’s forced smile fades into a true one. Ainsley always saves him at just the right moment.

”Ah, Ainsley, my sweet girl. I ordered you a peach bellini. Stay here and keep an eye on your brother, I don’t need him sneaking off while I run to the ladies room.” With that, Jessica stands and places her napkin on the chair.

”She seems more uptight than usual.” Malcolm whispers when he knows his mother is out of distance.

”Do you seriously not know what week it is?” Ainsley makes no effort to hide that she’s appalled. Malcolm's mind frantically races to find the answer that Ainsley expects him to have. “It’s the anniversary of when we had to move out of the house while the FBI swarmed every inch looking for more evidence against dad.” She sighs. “It’s not like you to forget stuff like this. What’s going on?”

”We found another victim out in Gilgo, but this time it’s a child. All my focus has been on this case. I can’t believe I forgot, though. My therapist is going to have a _lot_ to say about that.” Malcolm laughs. Ainsely doesn’t join him so he takes a drink. Anything is better than having to look at Ainsley while she judges him.

”I’m not judging you. I just think that you should move on from dad. He’s ruined mom’s life and I don’t want him ruining yours too. It’s good to throw yourself into work. I know you enjoy it and it makes you feel better. I’m proud of you, Mal.” Ainsley bumps his shoulder. “Would you want to come out with me, tonight? I have a few friends in mind that would _love_ to finally me you.”

”Thanks for the invite, Ains, but-”

”Thanks, but no thanks. Yeah, I got it.” Ainsley takes a long, pointed sip from her drink. “You always say that. Doesn’t stop me from asking, though. Maybe one day you’ll actually want to spend time with me.”

”Hey, Ainsley, no. It’s not like that. I actually already have plans for tonight.” Malcolm fixes the collar of his shirt.

”Oh, who are we seeing?” Ainsley leans forward on her elbow.

”An old friend. You know that not everything has to be an interview, right?” Malcolm knows his answer will make Ainsley think he’s dating. What she, and eventually their mother, doesn't know can’t hurt them.

”Mysterious evening plans? Sounds more like an investigation than an interview.” Ainsely smirks at Malcolm. He smiles back, happy for the banter.

”You would know more about that than me.”

In another world, there would be four people sitting at this table. Martin and Jessica would be arguing over the fabric of napkins. Ainsley would still be graduating from Columbia’s School of Journalism. Malcolm probably would have followed in his father’s footsteps and gone into the medical field. They would be happy. But, this is the real world and Malcolm is never that lucky.

\--------------------

This is the third time Malcolm’s been at the bar at this very club. Same seat each time too. He’s not sure why he always tortures himself like this. There are plenty of other booths, tables, and chairs that are available, but Malcolm waited for this one.

”Any chance I could get a cup of tea?” Malcolm asks the bartender. He gets a wink in response and watches as he picks up a phone to call the owner.

The bartender sets down a mug of green tea and Malcolm nods, sliding a couple of dollars into the tip jar. He’s tipping as much as the drink cost him, but it doesn’t matter. Tea may be two dollars but information is priceless.

”Well, I’ll be damned. Only two people in the world would come to my club and order tea, and one of them happens to be serving multiple life sentences, so I’d know those baby blues anywhere.” Fish opens her arms and Malcolm gives her a kiss on both cheeks. “It’s been a few years Malcolm…” She hesitates.

”Bright. It’s Malcolm Bright.” Malcolm smiles as Fish sizes him up. He extends his hand to the small man standing behind Fish. He doesn’t speak but grips Malcolm’s hand tightly as they shake hands.

”Bright, huh? It suits you. You were always intelligent.” Fish grins and Malcolm can’t help but to feel relieved. He had no clue if Fish would remember him at all.

”Uh, sure, I guess. It’s a family nickname that I took.” Malcolm takes a quick breath. Fish trades in information. It’s her life source, even just the smallest detail doesn’t go unnoticed. He needs to be more aware of what he says to her.

”A nickname? I like it. Family is everything.” All Fish does is look at the man behind her and he immediately walks away.

Malcolm watches the man head towards Fish’s booth and lean over the table to remove the extra settings. Malcolm’s best guess is that he is Fish’s errand boy. She goes through them constantly, making new members earn their rank in her family. Fish smirks, as though she can read deep into Malcolm’s subconscious thoughts. She rakes her eyes down her boy and then up Malcolm. Malcolm scoffs as she doesn’t even try to be subtle.

”So tell me, boy. How’s the love life going?” Fish tilts her head expectantly.

”I’m not currently dating.” Malcolm shoves his hands into his pockets. One matriarch digging into his personal life is more than enough.

”Why not? Pretty boy like you must have an easy enough time.” Fish presses her lips together. Malcolm knows he’s good looking, he doesn’t know why everyone always has to throw it in his face.

”I have no interest.” Malcolm huffs. Why can’t people just leave well enough alone. His dating life is his to care about, not anyone else’s.

”In women?” Fish smiles politely at him. Of course she remembers the last time he came in. Stupid. He shouldn’t be here, but he wants answers.

”In _dating_.” Malcolm hopes his voice is stern enough to end the conversation. Fish just laughs at him and shakes her head.

”Don’t ask, don’t tell is over, boy. No one’s gonna judge you for liking men. Though, I would advise you to look elsewhere than Oswald there. Don’t think the two of you are compatible.” Fish tosses Malcolm a look over her shoulder and settles into her booth. She knows that he’ll follow her. Malcolm ignores her comments.

”There’s so much I’ve been meaning to ask you, Fish.” Malcolm barely is seated before the words pour out of his mouth. If he didn’t know any better he’d say that when he said Fish’s name she grimaced.

”Right to business then?” Fish raises her hands and drums her nails against the table. “I can do that. What do you want to know?”

”That night, all those years ago, what was my father doing here?” Malcolm’s eyes beg Fish for an answer. He’s desperate. Working on the Gilgo case made him realize how little he knows about his father’s case.

”I have to be honest with you. You’re father came here numerous times, Malcolm.” Fish sighs. She never was a fan of Martin Whitly. She hates him actually. Men like him, who kill for no reason, are despicable in her eyes. If you’re going to kill someone, at least make sure their death isn’t in vain. Martin claims that he killed for knowledge, but Fish knows better. She knows men like Martin and he just liked the rush that came with taking a life.

”I figured as much. But the night I was here with him. What happened that one night?” Malcolm presses further. He feels like an accomplice. Malcolm was here with his father. He could have called the police sooner, could have saved more lives, could have done the right thing. He could have avoided the girl in the box all together. She never would have been in the box in the first place.

”He met with my capo Butch. They were having a meeting about supplying your father with a girl for one of his experiments.” Fish puts air quotes around the word experiments.

Malcolm sighs and drops his head on to the table. His suspicions were correct, his father did come here on “business”. Which means that he was here while his father was talking shop, as Martin so loves to call it.

”I didn’t know what was going on until that night, though, Malcolm. You’ve got to believe me. I don’t let girls, or anyone, get traded around like that. You know I don’t allow that kind of shit.” Fish places her hands on top of Malcolm’s. She looks and sounds so genuine. Fish deals with information more than anything, favors, blackmail, all that kind of fun stuff. She has no reason to be lying to Malcolm. He gives her a sad smile.

”I believe you, Fish. I know you wouldn’t lie to me” Malcolm closes his eyes and tries his best to compose himself. “Do you know anything more about that night?”

”You’re with the FBI now, right? Why should I give you information so easily? What’s in it for me, Bright? You should know better than to be greedy for intel like this.” Fish leans back. She rocks side to side, softly letting Malcolm know that she’s prepared to wait as long as he needs.

”I can’t think of anything to offer the top of my head. I, uh, I can pay you?” Malcolm wasn’t expecting Fish to ask for something in return. This is a first.

”Boy, listen to me, I don’t need money from you. I’ve got other connections that pay me. You want good info, I’m gonna need something just as worthwhile in return.” Fish crosses her arms. Her normally warm smile is replaced by a fierceness that Malcolm has only seen Jessica use on particularly lazy workers.

”How about an IOU?” Malcolm asks, gesturing to Fish. “I don’t have anything you currently want, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t have anything in the future.” He smiles, mostly for himself. His bargaining skills have never been great.

Fish thinks it over. She gives nothing away. She sits there, staring Malcolm down. Waiting to see if Malcolm can come up with anything better. He won’t and Fish is counting on that. An unclaimed favor from an FBI special agent who comes from one of the most powerful families in New York is a huge win for her. Fish gives Malcolm a curt nod.

”Deal.” She uncrosses her arms and leans forward against the table. She nods at Oswald and he runs up to her office before coming down minutes later with a large black leather book. Fish flips through the pages, her long nails dragging down the page. It’s not before long she stops and swivels the book to face Malcolm.

”Right there.” Below Fish’s pointer is a part of a calendar that reads “Butch, Whitly meeting @ 10:00pm” the rest of the information is scribbled out in black pen rending it illegible. “There’s another meeting with the same heading that said “pickup” set for two months later, but that was after your father’s arrest so it never happened. You’re father didn’t get anyone the night you were here with him.”

”Fish, you don’t know what this means to me. Thank you.” Malcolm starts to slide out of the booth. Even though some of his fears have been resolved, Mooney’s still leaves a sour taste in his mouth and the sooner he can get out of here the better.

”You’re not staying? Have a drink, relax.” Fish stands and smooths her dress.

”If you’ll excuse me, Fish, I do have a killer on the loose that I need to be looking for.” Malcolm hopes that his little white lie is believable.

”Of course. Don’t let me keep you from your very important work, special agent.” Fish makes no effort to conceal her sarcasm. If Malcolm had time to ditch the case to come looking for information on his father, he could spare a moment to finish his cup of tea.

”Thanks for the chat, Fish.” Malcolm throws back. He turns his back to leave, hoping to never set foot in Mooney’s again.

”Bright, it’s the anniversary of your father’s case beginning, is it not?” Malcolm whips around to face Fish. She is sitting on the edge of her booth with a smug look on her face. “Don’t let that keep you up at night. You look exhausted, you could use the sleep.” She laughs and strides over to Malcolm. Her finger in his face and her eyes filled with rage. “Maybe try some ketamine, works like a charm.”

”Some friend you are.” Malcolm remarks. He storms out of the club before he can even hear whatever Fish was going to reply.

”Oswald! He’s banned from here, do you hear me? I don’t ever want another Whitly stepping foot in this club again.” Fish yells and the club quiets. She snaps her fingers at the DJ and the music restarts. The patrons continue moving about, the majority of them already used to Fish’s outbursts.

Malcolm mutters to himself as he walks down the narrow alley leaving Mooney’s. He thought going there would make him feel better. He abandoned his case, lied to Ainsley, disappointed his mother, and is no closer to figuring out what really happened the night his father brought him here.

”Mr. Bright?” An unfamiliar voice calls from the side of the club. Malcolm turns to see Oswald, Fish’s errand boy, standing by the side exit of the club. Against his better judgement, Malcolm walks over to him.

”Oswald, right?” Malcolm asks. He wants to make sure he heard Fish correctly. Oswald nods and Malcolm notices how small and frail the man is. Malcolm knows that he’s shorter than average, but Oswald is even shorter than him. Oswald’s pale skin and dark hair makes him look even thinner than he is, or maybe it’s the baggy clothes he wears.

”Mr. Bright, you shouldn’t trust Miss Mooney. She isn’t being honest with you.” Oswald speaks quickly, his voice wavering. Malcolm knows that Oswald is risking a lot by speaking with him right now.

”Not trust her? I have no reason not to. This isn’t the first time Fish has come to my aid. Plus the book she showed me-”

”Was forged.” Oswald corrects. “While I was in her office, Miss Mooney had me black out the rest of that entry. I am sorry, but she’s not a good person.” Oswald sniffles.

”You sound like my father.” Malcolm offhandedly replies. He doesn’t know why this errand boy thinks that Malcolm would believe him over Fish.

”I’m sure you don’t trust your father and therefore me, but you must listen to me! Fish could have me killed for this, but you deserve the _truth_.” Oswald is worked up, spit flying from his mouth. “The rest of that entry said that it was a meeting for the final money exchange for a girl named Laurie Payton.”

”What? That can’t be right.” Malcolm goes to leave but Oswald grabs his arm.

”She’s one of your father’s victims isn’t she?” Malcolm just stares at Oswald. Too confused to do anything else. Laurie Payton was in fact one of Martin’s victims. “Now you have to believe me! I’m telling you the truth.”

”I have to go. Lives are on the line.” Malcolm yanks his arm free of Oswald’s grasp. He hurries away. The close proximity of the buildings echoing Oswald’s warnings behind Malcolm.

”You made a mistake trusting her, Mr. Bright! She’s going to cash in on that favor and it won’t be pretty! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Oswald’s shrill voice bounces around the alley and in Malcolm’s head.

If Oswald is telling Malcolm the truth, he can’t even begin to imagine what other lies Malcolm has allowed Fish to get away with. He should go home, be with his family. He knows his mother will be throwing a fit. Yet none of the other times Malcolm had trusted Fish seemed to be lies. Malcolm likes to think that he’s a good judge of character and Oswald feels a lot less trustworthy than Fish.

Malcolm shakes his head to clear his mind and hails a cab. He trusts Fish. The two of them are friends. She hasn’t given him any reason to think otherwise. If anything, Fish could have sent Oswald out after Malcolm to lie in order to convince him not to come back to Mooney’s.

All Malcolm knows for sure is that he’s never stepping foot in that club again. He got the answer he was looking for and he’s happy to be rid of that place and the bad memories that come with it.

When Malcolm returns home Jessica is waiting anxiously in the doorway.

”Malcolm, Ainsley told me you had a date tonight. How did it go?” She rushes him into the foyer. She grabs his coat from him and places it in the closet.

”It went fine, mother. Thank you, Ainsley, for always being a tattler.” Malcolm gives Jessica a kiss and flops down into one of the couches in the living room.

”Ease up on your sister, she’s just keeping me updated since you never do.” Malcolm groans and lifts his legs so that his mother can join him on the couch. “You look terrible. Don’t lie, I’ll know. What really happened on this date with an old friend? I want to hear all the details.”

”I’m positive that you don’t.” Malcolm catches Jessica’s eyes going wide. “Oh god, no! Not like that, mother! Christ. It just, it didn’t go well. I ended up leaving early. Right now isn’t the right time for me to be worried about stuff like this.” He sighs. Jessica wraps her hand around his and squeezes.

”Things are always difficult around this time of the year. I get it.” Jessica presses a kiss to the palm of Malcolm’s hand. He smiles at his mom. She always does that when she thinks he’s extra stressed. It’s from a book he loved as a child.

Malcolm can’t bring himself to tell his mother that he wasn’t out on a date. That he was actually consorting with criminals in a sketchy club trying to find out information on his serial killer father’s closed case.

He especially can’t tell his mother that he is more concerned with the Gilgo case than anything. So concerned that he even forgot it was the anniversary of the beginning of the end of their lives. Malcolm forces himself to smile and he tears up when Jessica’s eyes glimmer at him. The two of them sit there until they fall asleep.

There’s only one woman in Malcolm’s life that he knows he can trust for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things didn't end so hot. It's a good thing Malcolm wont be going back....


	4. School Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm visits Fish one last time and he finally learns his lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags!  
> CW: descriptions of violence (breaking bones, slapping, etc), blood lots of blood at the end, Fish is kinda gross about Malcolm's sexuality
> 
> Okay lots of build up for this chapter. As usually if you want me to add any cw's let me know and I'll update. Now, please go and enjoy 8k of Malcolm getting beat up.

Malcolm comes to and he has no idea where he is. His vision is still foggy and his mind isn’t all quiet there. He knows that he is not at Mooney’s any longer. It’s daytime, based off of the light streaming through the half boarded up windows.

”Think, Malcolm, think. How did you end up here?” Malcolm talks to himself. He notes how his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. He’s been drugged. By Fish. Why was he talking to Fish again?

\--------------------

Malcolm has been staring at the white board in the conference room for almost an hour straight. There has to be something that he’s missing. Every time he thinks he’s a step in the right direction a new twist in the case pops up. A body with a note attached to it, claiming to be a lead from a crime family that’s so old it’s basically a joke. Not to mention Gil’s reluctant announcement that someone on the inside is covering up for the killer since evidence has started to go missing. So far five people have died, with no clear connections, and if the note was to be believed, the killer was just warming up.

”Kid, you gotta give your eyes a break. The pictures won’t come to life and tell you who killed them.” Gil looks just as weary as Malcolm feels. The case has been going on for a few weeks now and everyone’s been pulling long hours to try to get to the bottom of this. Each hit is seemingly random and Malcolm worries that the team is starting to doubt his ability to gather _any_ information on the perp.

”Bright, when’s the last time you went home? Took your meds? Took care of yourself?” Dani pops her head in from the hallway. She’s cradling a cup of coffee, which is strange because Malcolm definitely saw her take an energy shot a few minutes ago. Or was that yesterday? Malcolm’s not sure anymore, the days have been running together.

”Not sure.” Malcolm doesn’t even turn to look at Dani. His glassed over eyes are trained on the board and pulling them away is too much effort. Malcolm waves his hand absentmindedly, hoping that the movement will break his focus. “I haven’t been outside since yesterday, I think I have an umbrella in my locker if you need it.”

”You’re not even listening to us!” Dani’s concern grows with every move Malcolm makes. She sets her coffee down onto the conference table and shakes her head at JT as if to say that it’s his turn to try to pull Bright’s focus.

”If you haven’t taken your meds, those pictures might actually start talking to you.” JT jests and earns himself a frown from Gil. “Bright? Hello?” JT groans and stands up from the rolling chair, the arms creaking as he puts all his weight on them to help him stand.

JT walks right up to Bright and positions himself between the profiler and the whiteboard that’s been occupying his attention. JT’s dark button up is a stark contrast to the mostly empty white board and it’s just what Malcolm needed to clear his head and bring him back to the people standing in the room with him.

”Gil, we’ve tried leads on the rat in the precinct,” JT huffs at Malcolm’s choice of words and Malcolm rushes to correct himself, “uh the potential in house leak,” but it gives him an idea. “Wait! We haven’t looked into the Genovese connection. Maybe the old crime family _is_ connected.”

Malcolm’s revelation is met with a choir of groans. JT laughs, Dani rolls her eyes, and Gil smiles at Malcolm sadly.

”Listen, Bright, since the Maroni’s and the Falcone’s took over in the 90’s, the Genovese’s all but disbanded. There’s no way they’re actually involved in this. All the kids wanted out. That family business has died.” Gil sags into the chair at the head of the table. Malcolm hates how defeated they all look. He needs to figure this out.

”Alright, sure, but maybe someone who used to be with the Genovese’s is involved. It’s worth checking out, even if it’s just to cross another option off the list.” Malcolm is renewed by the prospect of a potential lead. He bounces on his toes as a second wave of adrenaline rushes through his veins.

”In fact, I know someone who could help. I have a friend,” Malcolm forces himself to stop mid sentence, he wouldn’t exactly consider their relationship to be friendly, “I know someone that has a detailed history of all crime families in the city. I could go and talk to her-”

”There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go visit Fish Mooney! You told me about what happened last time you saw her. You’re not to step foot near that club. That’s an _order_.” Gil rises from the chair to tower over Malcolm. He hopes that being at full height will be enough to silence Malcolm.

”Wait a second, you know Fish Mooney?” Dani asks wide eyed. JT whistles.

“Must be nice to be a rich and powerful member of high society.” Dani exchanges a glance with JT.

”It wasn’t like that. Fish knew my father and I happened to accompany him one night to Mooney’s.” Malcolm can’t help but to feel embarrassed. Dani and JT always playfully rag on him for his status, but he never used his pull to get anything from Fish. They _were_ friends.

”Doesn’t matter, it’s out of the question. I’ll ask Harvey to go see her. He’ll appreciate the social call and she goes easier on him.” Gil pulls out his phone and begins to type. Malcolm assumes that it’s a message to Bullock.

”That old geezer? Bright here has a better chance of getting information out of Mooney than Bullock ever will. He’s just gonna kiss ass like always.” Dani crosses her arms. She aims a smirk in Malcolm’s general direction and he can’t help but beam at the vote of confidence.

”Come on, Gil. Let me go. Please?” Malcolm pleads. He throws in a pout for good measure. Gil laughs wryly at him.

”That might have worked when you were a kid, Bright, but that’s not getting you anywhere now.” Gil puts an arm out, palm facing Malcolm begging for the kid to stop and think for once in his life.

”It definitely worked on you yesterday when you told him to go home and he wanted to stay.” JT quips. Gil stammers, looking for a comeback, but JT is right. Gil did allow Bright to stay even after he told the kid to call it quits. JT drums his hands on the table and turns to face Malcolm. “It’s settled then. Bright’s going to visit an old _not_ friend.”

\--------------------

Malcolm finds himself standing in the narrow alley leading to Mooney’s once again. The same neon sign casts a red glow, being the only light source, and beckons Malcolm closer. He fears that Fish followed through on her threat and put him on a banned list. Thankfully, Malcolm remembers the side door that Oswald called him from.

Praying for luck that he rarely has, Malcolm pushes the bar of the side entrance door and breathes a sigh of relief when it opens without triggering any alarms. Slipping inside, he notices that there’s more security than there was last time. Malcolm does his best to stick to the dimly lit corners and move in unison with groups of people, hoping that he can go by unnoticed. He is halfway up the staircase to Fish’s office when he feels a firm hand clamp down onto his shoulder, nearly throwing him off balance.

”Special Agent Bright, where do you think you’re going?” Butch’s voice is unmistakable. Malcolm closes his eyes and tries to breathe deeply to release the building tension in his chest.

”Butch!” Malcolm spins around, careful not to lose his balance on the steps. “I need to speak to Fish, it’s urgent.” He knows that if he can convince Butch to bring him to Fish she might go easier on him.

”There’s nothing you could say that Fish would want to hear.” Butch grunts and forces Malcolm down the stairs. Malcolm braces a hand on either rail and plants his feet making it more difficult for Butch to man handle him.

”There’s been a string of murders. We don’t have any viable leads-” Malcolm begins.

”Oh the police don’t know what they’re doing? That’s quite a shock. Don’t see what this has to do with Fish.” Butch wedges his fingers between Malcolm’s. The pain causes Malcolm to let go of the handrail and Butch uses the opportunity to push Malcolm forward.

”There’s a possibility the Genovese’s are making a play!” Malcolm yells and Butch runs at him. Butch pushes Malcolm into a wall and covers Malcolm’s mouth with his hand.

”Choose your next words _very_ carefully.” Butch lowers his hand. Malcolm nods and rolls his lips as he figures out the best way to get to Fish.

”The victims, nothing connects them as far as we can see, but we got a note that said to look into the Genovese’s. If they have enough power that they have a hitman working for them, they could be plotting against Falcone.” Malcolm lets just enough fear creep into his eyes. Butch eases up and releases Malcolm from where he was pinned against the wall.

”Thanks for the heads up, we’ll deal with this on our own. Now get the hell out.” Butch turns his back on Malcolm.

”Please, I need to see Fish. She’s the only person who can find a possible link between the victims. Their families deserve to know what happened to them.” Malcolm pleads. He needs to get to Fish and he knows that Butch does have a soft heart under all that bulk.

”I will… tell Fish that you want to speak to her. It’s up to her if she wants to hear you out or not. Follow me.” Butch leads Malcolm back up the staircase they just descended.

Butch knocks twice on the door that leads to Fish’s office. Butch nods and look down at Malcolm’s feet telling him to stay put. After a moment the door opens and he steps inside. Malcolm strains to hear any bits of the conversation going on, but the club is too loud, even at this time of day. The door opens once more and Butch stands in the doorframe. Malcolm prepares himself to be turned away.

”You have twenty minutes. That’s it.” Butch steps out of the door and watches Malcolm go to Fish’s desk.

”You’ve got some nerve showing up here.” Fish doesn’t stand from her chair. She truly looks like the quintessential mobster. She poised with her arms resting on the sides of the chair and her legs crossed. Fish looks powerful and she knows that she is too.

”I wouldn’t have come here unless I was desperate, Fish.” Malcolm sits down. He’s on the edge of his chair, hands folded in his lap, and his head slightly bent.

”Seems to be a common occurrence for you then.” Fish remarks, refusing to look Malcolm in the eyes. “But I have a strict policy, no business until Butch comes back with drinks. It’s too early for alcohol, I assume you’re not opposed to tea?” Fish smiles and Malcolm cowers under the venom it holds.

”Tea is fine. Thank you, Fish.” Malcolm knows he’s already on thin ice. Any further requests might just be the thing that pushes Fish over the edge. Where she no longer is hospitable and becomes the iron fisted leader that Malcolm knows she is.

Butch re-enters the room with an antique silver serving tray. Set up are two cups of tea, a sugar bowl, some milk, and small spoons to go along with it. Fish fixes her cup and encourages Malcolm to do the same. Malcolm warily casts a side eyed glance to Butch. He doesn’t look thrilled to be running around with trays of food.

”What happened to your boy Oswald?” Malcolm tries to make polite conversation. He fidgets with the cup. He takes a sip and moves to place the cup down, but changes his mind halfway and downs nearly half of the tea.

”That two timing rat is no longer with us.” Fish pauses and sets her cup down. “He turned on his family and we _both_ know what happens to people who betray their own.” She flashes Malcolm a smile but her eyes are dead serious. Malcolm knows a threat when he hears one.

”So, we have our drinks. What’s got your officers so rilled up that you come to me for answers?” Fish places her hands neatly on the desk. She looks so cool and collected. It puts Malcolm on edge how relaxed she’s being.

”Five seemingly unrelated murders all done by the same person. We had no leads and no connections.” Malcolm stops and sits up straighter.

”Until?” Fish is smart. Too smart. She’s drawing information from Malcolm.

”Until the most recent victim. A note was attached to the latest victim and it points towards the Genovese family.” Malcolm watches Fish closely. She doesn’t laugh like he expects. Fish just slowly nods.

”You bothered me because you’re worried that a no longer operational family is active? Don’t make me laugh. This was a waste of time!” Fish stands. She gestures towards the door with an open palm.

”Fish, please! This is the only lead we have left.” Malcolm settles deeper into the chair. He refuses to leave without at least a bit of help. “The note was attached to a young woman named Francesca Dodson.” Fish whips her head around and glares at Malcolm.

”Who was the note on?” She leans over the side of the desk, dropping her face to level with Malcolm. “Say her name again, slowly. You better not be lying to me, boy.” Malcolm stares into Fish’s eyes, wondering how one name could stir up so much concern.

”Francesa Dodson.” Malcolm’s voice waivers. This name means something to Fish.

”When the Falcone’s finally absorbed most of the Genovese’s assets, they also acquired all of their debtors. The Genovese’s were sticklers when it came to their money, debts would be passed down through a bloodline. Dodson was paying off her grandfather’s debt. We didn’t want ony of Dodson’s money but she insisted. Payments stopped about a week ago.” Fish drops her head. She rummages through her desk drawer until she pulls out a ledger. She turns to last week’s date and points to where Dodson’s balance was still blank.

”Fish, thank you so much. Now there’s some weight to this lead. I don’t know how I can thank you.” Malcolm stands and shakes Fish’s hand.

”Don’t worry about it, boy. I’ll think of something soon.” Fish walks over to the door, unlocks it, and swings it open in a smooth motion.

Malcolm takes one step forward and it feels as though the floor turns to mush under him. His vision goes blurry and suddenly it’s incredibly difficult for him to hold his head up. Malcolm grabs on to the back of the chair for support but his depth perception is off and he misses. The momentum of his arm swinging heavily pulls him to the floor. Malcolm collapses. From the floor Malcolm can make out the silhouette of Fish moving closer to him. Her heels clicking loudly and echoing in his ears.

”What did?” Malcolm opens and closes his mouth. “What?” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and he’s having trouble swallowing. “Huh? ‘s goin’ on?” Malcolm slurs his words. He tries to think of a way out of this, but his normally rapid thoughts are molasses. He can barely remember to blink.

”Stupid boy. Did you really think all would be forgiven just like that?” Fish kneels down by his head. Malcolm blinks as his eyelids grow heavier. He furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak again. “Ah-ah. Shush.” Fish presses up on Malcolm’s jaw effectively keeping his mouth shut. “You want information and if I remember correctly, you still owe me one.” She snickers at him. “Malcolm, you’re dumber than any officer I’ve ever seen. Taking tea from a stranger, _really_ , I mean I thought you would have known better than that.”

Malcolm groans and struggles against Fish’s hands. Normally he could take her, but he’s too foggy to do anything but lay there. Fish kisses the tips of her fingers and places them on Malcolm’s forehead before she stands. Malcolm rolls onto his back and tries to sit up. He needs to stay awake, keep moving. This is bad. He came here alone, he has to find his own way out of this.

It takes a few seconds for Malcolm to notice Fish is balancing on one leg. He soon feels the cool surface of the bottom of her heel on his cheek and she forces his head to the side. Malcolm can’t do anything but lay there in horror as Fish continues to move his head any way she wants. His other cheek is pressed into the floor, but Fish doesn’t let up. She adds more of her weight onto Malcolm’s face and twists her foot. The stiletto heel digs into Malcolm’s lower jaw.

”Goodnight, Malcolm.” It’s the last thing Malcolm hears before the world goes dark.

\--------------------

The first thing Malcolm does when he comes to is survey where he is. It seems as though he’s somewhere by the docks based off of the smell of low tide and the constant cry of seagulls. The space he’s in looks like an old converted warehouse. There’s random pillars running through the numerous levels above his head. The dingy lights sputter and crack as they flicker on, casting a sickly blue glow on everything.

Malcolm tests his range of motion and finds that he’s strapped to a chair in the middle of the room with a table on his left covered in a black tarp. Malcolm shudders as he thinks to what could be on that table. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a four count then releases the air. Malcolm leans forward again, slower this time so he can really assess his situation.

There’s rope around Malcolm’s lower chest. It’s tight enough that it restricts his breathing so he knows that there’s less wiggle room. Malcolm’s hands are duct taped to either side of the chair, allowing him some awkward movement. He rotates his ankles and hears the faint scrap of handcuffs. Malcolm stretches one foot forward and the other gets pulled back. _So my feet are cuffed together, and the connecting chain is probably wrapped around a bar between the legs of the chair_ , Malcolm thinks to himself.

He’s secured tightly to the chair and Malcolm still is in a bit of a daze from whatever was in his drink. Malcolm would rather face Fish and her goons than the demons that live inside his head any day so he begins to struggle against his restraints. He hopes that his twisting will give him some slack in the rope, and maybe his sweat could peel back some of the adhesive on the tape on his wrists.

”Hello?” Malcolm calls out. He knows someone has to be nearby. They should be expecting him to wake. “Fish? Anyone? I’m up and I’d like to get this over with.”

The distinctive sound of heels comes from behind him. Malcolm can’t help but to give a smug smile. He knew Fish would be here.

”You called?” Her voice booms around the open building. She places a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder as she circles him. “I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face, Bright.” Fish is seething.

”You’re not happy to see me all tied up like a present? I’m heartbroken really.” Malcolm teases Fish. He knows that she’s not going to hold back either way, but he might as well get some “hits” in where he can.

”Oh no, I’m _thrilled_ to see you stay put so nicely. In any other circumstance you’d be having a lot more fun too.” Fish opens her arms and sighs. “Nothing we can do about that now, Malcolm.” Fish laughs as she watches Malcolm process everything.

”Come on, you know I wouldn’t enjoy _that_ , Fish.” Malcolm tries to play back but any other thoughts are caught short. Fish slaps him. A good slap too. She follows through and doesn’t pull back, her nails drag angry, red lines across his cheek.

”Only my friends call me Fish, punk. Now you listen to me and you listen well.” Fish steps closer. Malcolm can feel her breath against his cheek. He hasn’t turned his head back since Fish had slapped him, scared to meet her eyes. “I’m cashing in on that IOU. My payment is that you sit there and take everything I’m going to give you. I can be reasonable though,” Fish steps back and folds her hands in front of her stomach, “when I’m done with you, I’ll give you the answer you're looking for and drop you back off to that lovely Lieutenant of yours. How does that sound?”

”How about you skip that first part and we just jump to you giving me the answers I need?” Malcolm pants. Fish slaps him again. The same cheek. Her nails scratch over the same spots and deepen the wounds. Malcolm knows if she goes any deeper he’s going to have a nasty scar.

”I am sick and tired of you fucking rich white boys bursting into my club and demanding favors. Expecting me to just fall in line and give you the answers and clean up your messes.” Fish laughs. “Today, I’m making my own mess and you have to deal with it by yourself.”

Fish fists her hand in Malcolm’s hair and yanks his head backwards. Malcolm yelps as she manages to pull hard enough that a few strands come loose. His chest heaves with his frantic breaths and he whimpers every time he sucks in a lungful of air. The ropes around his chest pull painfully and burn with every breath.

”Look at me.” Malcolm squeezes his eyes closed. Fish shakes his head with her fist still lodged in his hair. “I said _look at me_. I don’t like repeating myself.” Malcolm opens his eyes and Fish spits in his face.

”Miss Mooney, please. What did I do to deserve this?” Malcolm is bewildered. He had trusted Fish for the majority of his life. Sure their last meeting was rocky, but he didn’t think it was anywhere near this bad.

”There’s the respect I deserve.” She purrs at Malcolm. “Was that so hard? To address me properly? To say please?” Malcolm stays quiet, staring up at Fish with fear. “Answer me!”

”N-no, Miss Mooney.” Malcolm shuts his mouth the second the words leave his mouth. He can tell that Fish is taking out years of anger on him. He would be unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fish back hands him this time. Her grip in his hair keeps his head mostly in place, but the shock still forces him to look away, causing more pulling on his hair. Malcolm gasps. Fish laughs at him but it soon turns into a moan when she sees tears forming in Malcolm’s eyes.

”Are you crying already? How pathetic. I’ve barely even started.” Fish uses her thumb to catch a tear. She brings her finger to her mouth and laughs. “Salty. Not that I expected any less from a little bitch boy like you.”

”You think you’re so brave and powerful. You only see the world as something you can conquer and use up. Not anymore. It’s time someone put you in your place. For years I’ve done nothing but be nice to you and you take advantage of me. You use my boys, my information, my safety all without any thanks. Malcolm, I’ve had enough. You Whitly’s were never good news.” Fish snarls at him.

Everything falls into place in Malcolm’s mind at once. Fish had never said they were friends, he had been confusing and abusing her kindness. Fish had been waiting for Malcolm to realize that he had his unspoken end of the agreement to hold up and not once did he. In fact, Malcolm left off owing Fish one and he never even offered anything in return. He left the city for a little under a decade.

”Miss Mooney, I’m sorry.” Malcolm’s voice waivers. He has to apologize, get back into her good graces. He’s dealt with scorned women before, he knows exactly what to say. “I took you for granted. I’m a rich, white, guy I’ve only ever seen people as stepping stones to my own needs. I used you. I apologize. I should know better than to ask for favors, over and over again, and expect that you would just do them for free.”

”You’re right. You should have.” Fish nods once thoughtfully and releases Malcolm’s hair.

”Thank you, for showing me the error of my ways.” Malcolm gives Fish the sincerest smile he can muster.

”This lesson isn’t over just because you bat your eyelashes at me.” Fish pulls back a corner of the black tarp. She picks up a pair of silver brass knuckles. The light catches off the edge and Fish laughs as Malcolm squirms in the chair, trying uselessly to find a way out.

”You wanna be even? Never want to see me again? This,” Fish opens her arms and looks around, “is how you can repay me for all that I’ve done for you. And once I’m done with you, I’ll tell you what you need to know for your case.”

Fish grins as she slips the weapon on to her hand. Malcolm thrashes in his restraints and the chair almost tips from under him. _So, the chair’s not bolted to the ground_. He slides his feet forward, using both legs, and laughs in triumph as the chair slides backwards. Away from the slowly approaching Fish.

”Don’t act so scared. You’re only getting what you deserve.” Fish takes another step closer. Malcolm freezes. He can’t talk his way out of this. He can’t fight his way out of this. He’s trapped.

”What makes you think I won’t report you the second I’m out of here?” Malcolm’s grasping for straws and Fish knows it. She laughs in his face and nearly doubles over.

”You’re going to run back to all your cop friends? Gonna tells them what exactly? You made multiple deals with Falcone’s number one capo. How is that going to sound to them? What will they do?” Fish squats in front of Malcolm, lightly tapping his knees with the brass knuckles. “I’ll tell you. They’ll come here to talk to me and I’ll tell them _everything_. That you were here with your father as an accomplice. That you came to me and slept with one of my boys. That’s gotta be disorderly conduct at least. How about I tell them you came to me looking for information on your father’s closed case? And now you’re here because I’m the only person who can help you on a new case. You haven’t learned shit. You still think you’re so high and mighty. You think you’re better than me. Well, I’m not anywhere near as weak as you think I am.”

Fish rights herself quicker than Malcolm expects. He flinches, thankfully, causing his stomach to tighten before Fish’s fist lands square in the center of his abdomen. Malcolm’s mouth opens in a soundless scream and his head drops forward. Fish rains down more blows. She alternates where she hits, but stays mostly on the softness of his stomach. At one point Malcolm calls her Fish while delirious with pain. She hits him square in the ribs. Malcolm’s positive Fish fractured at least one of his ribs.

”Please stop!” Malcolm cries. He sobs until his eyes run dry and his throat is scraped raw. “Miss Mooney, please. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please. You’re hurting me.” Fish steps back from Malcolm. They’re both soaked in sweat, but Malcolm’s button up is starting to stain red. Fish broke skin.

”Shut up. I’m sick of hearing your desperate attempts to beg for your life. Shame you’re gay, otherwise I’d have a _much_ better use for that pretty mouth of yours.” Fish removes the weapon and stretches her hand open.

Malcolm watches her closely, trying his best to gauge her anger. Fish is too good at this. She gives nothing away. She’s obviously done this before. Nothing gets past her. Not her emotions, not a plan, and definitely not a disgraced special agent.

”Please.” Malcolm’s voice has dropped to a whisper. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s scared of her reaction or because it’s the loudest his sore throat will allow him to go. Fish continues to work her hand open and closed, ignoring Malcolm’s pleas.

”I told you to shut your damn mouth. Will you never learn?” Fish walks back to the table and slams the brass knuckles down. Malcolm instantly regrets opening his mouth. He regrets coming back to Mooney’s.

Malcolm centers himself in the chair, preparing himself for whatever Fish is going to throw at him next. Malcolm takes a deep breath and focuses on each of his restraints. There’s got to be a way for him to get out. A mistake made while strapping him down. Anything he can use to his advantage. The ropes around his chest have loosened, but only slightly. If Malcolm leans back in the chair he can guess that the rope was weaved in between the slats in the back of the chair, so there’s no chance sliding the ropes off. Malcolm was hoping that his sweat would have ruined the effectiveness of the duct tape, but much to his disappointment, his hands are still firmly trapped. The tape must string around the back legs of the chair, pulling the heel of Malcolm’s palms to sit against the seat of the chair. As far as the cuffs around his ankles, Malcolm already tried everything he could think of.

Malcolm stares at Fish defiantly. If he’s going to get his ass thoroughly handed to him, he might as well try to keep some of his pride. Fish pouts at him mockingly. Before Malcolm can catch the movement Fish brings her leg up and kicks the side of the chair.

The world tilts in slow motion as Malcolm feels the chair fall and him along with it. He lands on his side and Malcolm’s lungs seize. He chokes on his breath as air refuses to go in or out. Suddenly, pain blooms in his wrist. Like a fire coiled around his arm spreading along his veins into his hand and forearm. The ache is enough to break the invisible vice around his lungs. Malcolm screams in agony and his breathing comes back to him in jagged, shuddering breaths.

He grits his teeth hoping that anything will take his mind off of his wrist. Tears blur his vision, everything seems warped, but Malcolm is fairly certain that there is only one Fish Mooney. Somehow he sees at least three versions of her standing before him. His head must have hit the ground a lot harder than he realized. The pain from his wrist drowning out any other injuries he got in the fall.

Malcolm struggles to focus his eyes and find Fish, but she’s disappeared. Rays of light circle and extend from the fixtures over head, the brightness shooting searing pain into Malcolm’s eyes. He winces and closes his eyes. It’s important to know when you’ve been bested.

”Don’t fall asleep on me.” Fish’s voice comes from behind Malcolm. Which explains why he can’t see her. “Shouldn’t sleep with a concussion and you cracked your head pretty hard.”

”Guh.” Malcolm tries to form words, he really does, but with the pain like a vice grip around his torso nothing comes out.

He no longer cares about one upping Fish, about worming his way out of the chair, or finding his way back home. Malcolm just wants to survive. He’s not so sure he’ll come out of this alive. He’s not even sure that if he dies, there will be a body. Fish is _very_ thorough. She’s not going to get caught. Not by Malcolm, anyhow. He had already proven to himself that he was no match for her, in wits or strength. Malcolm’s chest sags, he concedes. Malcolm really thought that he and Fish were friends, that it was possible for him to trust her, that she would care for him and he wouldn’t owe her anything in return.

Malcolm relaxes his eyes, but keeps them closed. He lets his head loosely dangle at an awkward angle to rest on the floor. He winces as he sucks in what could possibly be his last breath.

”Finally.” Fish sounds exasperated. She notices the change in Malcolm. That he’d given up. Malcolm finally accepted that there was nothing he could do to fight back against Fish. “You lasted longer than I expected. Not that this was particularly drawn out.”

The click of Fish’s heels circle Malcolm’s limp body a few times. Malcolm knows that she’s watching him from every angle, committing the scene to memory. She’s enjoying her handiwork. The noise stops in front of Malcolm’s face. Fish’s shadow darkens the blackness Malcolm already sees behind his eyelids.

”I’d say you learned your lesson very well.” Fish’s voice is loud in Malcolm’s ears. She must be crouching down next to him. “You finally took some goddamn responsibility and accepted the hand you played in all of this. If you hadn’t been so stupid, you could have seen the signs earlier. For god’s sake even Penguin tried to warn you, but you were just too blinded by soft words and empty promises of trust. Are you really so gullible? So naive? You knew what I was and you still came back. This, Malcolm, is all your fault.” Fish pauses. “Or blame your father for all I care, he was the reason you found me in the first place. I should thank him, actually. I haven’t had a reason to bring someone out here in a while and you were the _perfect_ remedy for that.”

Malcolm forces his eyes open. He wants to convey that he is sorry. Maybe the pain in his eyes will soften whatever fate Fish has in store for him. His vision is still off kilter, but at least he can make out Fish’s silhouette. She’s standing once again and haloed by the fluorescent lights behind her. If Malcolm didn’t know any better he’d say she looked angelic with her gold dress, piercing eyes, and the light shining from behind her. But Fish was no angel and this was most certainly not heaven.

”Look how pretty you are. Even all bruised you have the prettiest little face I’ve ever seen.” Fish smiles at him and it’s genuine. Malcolm feels sick.

Helpless to do anything but watch, Malcolm tracks Fish’s foot with his eyes. It grows closer and closer to his face until he can’t see it anymore. It connects with his nose and Malcolm gasps as he can hear and _feel_ the cartilage crack. Blood begins to flow instantly. It’s warm and Malcolm’s thankful he’s on his side so he doesn’t have to gag on the iron of his own blood. The blood runs across his cheek and drips on to the floor. Unable to pinch or stop it, the blood pools around his head. It seeps into his hair and down the collar of his shirt. Malcolm watches dumbfounded as Fish steps forward, placing the toe of her shoe directly into the puddle in front of her.

”Lick it clean, you piece of shit.” Fish raises her foot and brings it close to Malcolm’s mouth. He has to strain forward, against his restraints, against the pounding in his head, and the ache in his chest, to feel the cool, smoothness of the patent leather and the thick globs of his blood on her shoe.

Malcolm opens his mouth and nearly chokes on the heavy metallic scent that rushes in. Fish’s features flare anger and Malcolm knows better than to hesitate any longer. His tongue darts forward and corrals the cooling blood into his mouth. Malcolm gags but is able to real himself back in. His tongue doesn’t slide easily against the fabric, it sticks and pulls against him. He tongue skips along the surface of the shoe, making him have to go back over sections he already cleaned.

The sharp tang of his blood is unsettling enough that it distracts Malcolm from the throb of his head and the pain in his wrist, and the tightness in his chest, and the dull burn of the scratches in his cheek. Malcolm welcomes the task of cleaning Fish’s shoe, he’ll do anything to get back into her good graces.

Fish’s shoe is clean of all the blood, but she doesn’t pull her foot away, so Malcolm continues licking at the point of her heel. He smooths his tongue over the surface in a few broad strokes to ensure that he gathers every last drop. Pleased with his work, Malcolm dares to look up at Fish. She crinkles her nose in disgust and Malcolm reverts his attention back to her feet.

”You’re so gifted with that tongue. Keep going, boy.” Fish sound appreciative. She nudges her foot closer to Malcolm’s face and he’s thankful that he doesn’t need to strain forward any longer.

Malcolm involuntarily makes a noise so small, at the comfort of Fish bringing her shoe to his mouth. Malcolm begins to press kisses all along the edge of Fish’s heel. He can feel the difference from the wet places that he has gone over with his tongue and the dry spots closer to the arch of her foot. There’s a slight dimpling in the fabric where the stitching is near the sole. Fish laughs as Malcolm continues to kiss her shoe, alternating with a few licks. The boy is thorough.

”That’s enough.” Fish places her foot back on the floor, but not before Malcolm can plant one last kiss of gratitude to the sole of her shoe. “I said, _that’s enough_. Did you learn nothing?”

”No, Miss Mooney, I’m sorry. I did learn, I promise, I did.” Malcolm shakes his head. “You said stop, I’m sorry, I should've. I’m sorry. Miss Mooney, I’m so sorry. It won’t, I won’t-”

”Calm yourself.” Fish’s voice is stern. “I know you won’t let it happen again, you really did learn your lesson. I better not catch you fucking up again. I won’t be so nice next time around.” The calm tone cuts through Malcolm’s thoughts. Fish isn’t going to kill him. She’s letting him go.

Fish turns and walks away. She walks past the table that’s still covered, past the pillars until Malcolm can’t see her anymore. A few moments later he can hear the metal of a door scrape against the concrete floor and bang shut. Malcolm is alone.

His heart begins to race and it thumps painfully in his chest. The steady rhythmic assault paining his abused ribs. Was Fish going to leave him in here all night? What was going to happen to him? Surely Gil is already looking for him.

As Malcolm’s thoughts swirl from bad to worse it gets harder and harder for him to breathe. Without Fish there to give him to something to focus on the pain covering Malcolm’s body becomes unbearable. Malcolm tries his best to recap all of his injuries.

There are scratches on his cheek from where Fish had slapped him. Those would need some antibiotic ointment at most and were the least of his concern. He knows that there is going to be substantial bruising on his abdomen from where Fish had landed blows with the brass knuckles. The way his ribs ache, Malcolm guesses there’s at least one fracture. Any doctor would prescribe painkillers and to keep away from any constricting clothes. Malcolm knows that his nose is broken from the noise it made when Fish stomped on it. The blood flow hadn’t stopped yet but it had slowed down. _Yay for little miracles_ , Malcolm thinks to himself. It probably wouldn’t need surgery, but he was sure that Jessica would have a few doctors to recommend should he need it.

What Malcolm is most worried about is his wrist. He is going to need the wrist to be reset. Worst case scenario it’ll need surgery. Which means he will need to go under anesthesia. Malcolm’s chest tightens at the thought of him laying on a medical table. Someone placing a mask over his face and having him count backwards until the world is dark. A surgeon rooting around inside his body. Malcolm heaves and the motion heightens the stress on his ribs.

Malcolm’s head starts to really pound. No longer a dull ache, Malcolm knows he lost a lot of blood. Not to mention the sheer amount of pain that he’s in. Everything has a slight green hue and Malcolm can’t tell if it’s because of the lighting or not. Soon, little pinpoints start to dot around his peripheral vision. The building looks as though Malcolm is viewing it through tv static. His vision tunnels and Malcolm is sure he’s about to pass out. Any other time Malcolm would welcome the sleep, but he still hasn’t gotten the information he needs out of Fish. Malcolm passes out, worried more about the fate of future victims than his own current state.

\--------------------

A cool breeze stirs Malcolm. He blinks and waits for his eyes to adjust to the dark lighting. Malcolm rolls over to his back and goes still. He’s not restrained anymore. Malcolm looks around slowly and much to his surprise he is outside. The dark lighting is just the nighttime. Malcolm sits up, resting all his weight on his one good hand, as he pushes himself up.

Slowly taking in his surroundings, Malcolm realizes that he is in front of the precinct. Another breeze brushes past and Malcolm hears the rustling of paper. He looks down and sees a torn piece of paper attached to his jacket by a safety pin.

Malcolm remembers what he told Fish earlier, “ _A note was attached to the latest victim and it points towards the Genovese family_ ”. She was upholding her end of the deal. Malcolm’s payment was his beating.

He goes to remove the note, but Gil would chew him out for tampering with evidence. He drops his hand. Malcolm shakes his head, Fish was right. He’s not pressing charges. There’s no need for any evidence to be collected. Malcolm’s hand shakes as he pushes on the safety pin and the point unhooks. He slides the paper off and folds it. He got the information, he has no reason to look at it. Besides, Gil, Dani, and JT would know what to make of it more than him.

Malcolm forces himself to his feet and enters through the front doors. Just as he walks in, the team rushes down the stairs. Their determined looks switch to shock when they see Malcolm, battered, but standing safely back in their custody.

”You look like you got put through a blender.” JT’s eyebrows draw together in concern.

”Jesus, Bright. How are you even standing right now?” Dani rushes over to him. Malcolm places an arm around her shoulder and smiles a thank you.

”I knew this was going to happen and I still let you go see that woman.” Gil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Bright the hell happened? You left hours ago. How’d you get here?”

”I went to see Fish.” Malcolm knows that no one is going to believe his story. “We caught up and we both, uh, apologized for how we behaved in the past.” Malcolm holds the folded piece of paper up between two fingers. “I was walking back here and got jumped. I didn’t see who did it. They knocked me out and I came back here once I was strong enough.”

”You walked here? From the theatre district?” Gil scoffs at Malcolm’s obvious lie. JT rolls his eyes. Dani places a hand on Malcolm’s chest but removes it when he winces.

”I didn’t want to bloody a cab.” Malcolm replies and slowly nods his head once. It’s something him and Gil have done for as long as he can remember. It’s their way of saying “just roll with it and I’ll explain later.”

”Yeah, yeah, alright. Let’s get you upstairs and have you checked out.” Gil grabs the note from Malcolm and calls the elevator.

Inside the elevator Malcolm can feel all the eyes on him. He has never been good at lying, not to the people he cares about, but this lie is necessary. Malcolm is not only protecting the team from seeing Fish, but Malcolm is also protecting himself.

Back in the conference room, Malcolm is given tylenol-codeine and an ice pack for his nose. He sits on top of the metal filing cabinet, not wanting to be back in a chair just yet. Malcolm leans against the cool glass behind him and swings his legs. With every bump of his foot against the metal, a hollow sound fills the room. When Gil shoots Malcolm a glance, Malcolm crosses his legs.

”You’re awfully chipper for someone who got beat up by the Falcones.” JT watches Malcolm closely. As much as he gives the kid a hard time, JT hates to see him in pain.

”Chipper? Try _alive_!” Gil tosses the note and it flutters down onto the table. “Malcolm, you could have gotten _killed_. I told you I didn’t want you going to Mooney’s, but I let you go against my better judgement. This is on me. I’m sorry. She could’ve killed you, kid.” Gil sighs.

”Gil, it’s alright. I told you, Mooney didn’t do this to me. I’ll be fine, I just need to get checked out and it will all be over.” Malcolm forces a smile. His face is already shades of purple and green, making the unnatural smile look even worse.

”Boss, he’s obviously not going to tell us what happened.” Dani tells Gil. She makes no effort to conceal her annoyance. Dani turns her attention to Malcolm. “Listen, Bright, I don’t know what she has on you, but you can trust us. We’re here to protect you. We can’t do that if you’re always throwing yourself into danger like this.”

”Thank you, Dani. It’s nothing. Let’s just solve this case, okay? I don’t want all of this to have been for nothing.” Malcolm waves the ice pack around.

”Thought you said you got jumped?” JT leans back in his chair. Obviously happy to catch Malcolm in his lie.

”We,” Gil points to himself and Malcolm, “will discuss this later. Let’s take a look at this note.” Gil picks the piece of paper off of the table and unfolds it slowly.

The whole room holds their breath as Gil slowly reads the note to himself. He laughs in a short burst of disbelief and hands the note off to JT. He rolls his eyes and hands the note to Dani. She reads it once, twice, three times. Each time she mouths the words to herself to make sure that she’s not missing anything. She finally hands the note to Malcolm. The paper shakes in his grasp. Malcolm reads aloud.

”Dear Lieutenant Arroyo,” Malcolm pauses and Gil catches the fear in his eyes. “Your consulting profiler, Malcolm Bright, came to me today to ask for my help on one of your cases. It seems as though the Genovese family is trying to get back some of their power. As I told Malcolm, the Genovese’s were strict when it came to their loans. Loans would be passed down in families until it was paid back. When the Falcone’s absorbed the majority of the Genovese’s business, all loans were considered paid, since the people who had taken out loans were all dead. The victims that Malcolm divulged to me are all either the children or grandchildren of debtors that the Genovese’s would not have considered paid in full. Most Genovese business partners transfered over to the Falcone’s or the Maroni’s, except for one, Lazlo Russo. He was fiercely loyal to the Genovese’s. Last I heard, he was living in the narrows. Tell Malcolm that his information was very good. My boss will be thrilled to know that an old friend like Lazlo is still around. Malcolm knows how much we love old friends.” Malcolm looks down and away from the note. No one in the room is stupid. They all know what that means. “Best of luck on your case. If you ever need more help, don’t be a stranger, Malcolm. There’s always another lesson to be learned. Signed, Fish Mooney.”

Malcolm places the note down next to him. He gives Gil a sheepish grin. Dani scoffs and JT smirks. Gil walks over to Malcolm, grabs the note, folds it back up, and exits the room.

”Powell, take Bright to his mother’s. She’s going to want to see him. JT, you’re with me. We’re going to the narrows.” Gil calls from the doorway.

”What? No way! I can help. Don’t send me home, Gil. Come on!” Malcolm hops down off of the cabinet and sways on his feet.

”No one’s going to argue with Arroyo.” JT stands and follows Gil out of the conference room.

”Bright, I know being with you mom is the last thing you want right now, but it’s what’s best. You need someone to look after you and we need to focus on this case. You helped us already, we were dead set on ignoring anything to do with the Genovese’s, but we were wrong. Now, this can help us finally bring in Lazlo. We’ve been searching for something on him for years. Go and rest. You need it.” Dani pats Malcolm gently on the back.

”You’re right.” Malcolm sighs. He tilts his head and lets it fall on Dani’s shoulder. “If you take me back to my apartment instead of my mother’s I can make you a mean grilled cheese.” Malcolm raises his eyebrows.

”Sounds like a deal. You still owe me a grilled cheese.” Dani laughs and grabs the melted ice pack from Malcolm. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumped the boy real good. Fish is a legend. That is all.

**Author's Note:**

> A little something that was nagging at me and I just had to wrtie. This is all just build up for Fish to tear into Malcolm (because it's what I deserve).


End file.
